Hello there, 

I’m back. 

No, really, I’m actually back. And guess what; I’m actually happy. 

This is not a drill, I am not bullshitting you. I am genuinely happy. 

For some context, let me explain what happened during the hiatus. 

As it turned out, the relationship was not what I had expected. I thought, for years, it would fix me. It would be some sort of panacea, and would fulfil me. Make me stop hating myself. Make the world better for me. This was not the case. It actually made me much worse, behind closed doors. I felt worse than I ever had when alone. I felt like I was awful, as though I wasn’t worthy of love or kindness. Like I didn’t matter, and that I was an embarrassment. That I had to act a certain way to be loved. Some of my most peaceful moments were the ones when I was alone. I felt as thought there was always a degree of loathing that was ever-present. It all precipitated in a breakup. 

The strange thing was, however, I wasn’t nearly as upset as I thought I’d be. I had one evening of feeling a bit bummed out, but it felt odd – I didn’t feel as though I had lost anything. If anything, I was annoyed that I had spent so much time pining after someone who, in the end, wasn’t worth it. 

That still left me with the problem of not being happy with myself. The self-loathing, the bitterness, the feeling of worthlessness. 

Sadly, I can’t quite relate exactly how things slotted together in my head, but I remember waking up one morning, and feeling okay. And then, as time went on, I felt better. I realised that the net impact I had in people was positive. I’m not a paragon of virtue, or an angel, but I’m a pretty good guy. When someone was crying in the corridor, I went over and helped them out. When someone dropped their bags, I went over and helped pick them up. I started to talk to my friends more, and realised that the ones that mattered, and where close to me, really didn’t see me the way I saw myself. 

I started to laugh more, smile more. 

I finally started to loosen up a little. Honestly, my anxiety has seemed to just…melt away. I’m not stressed go anymore, and I’m nowhere nears as concerned as I used to be by how other people view me. I like who I am, and those that agree with me are people I’d likely get along with. It isn’t worth trying to change the minds of people that already don’t like you, because their mind has already been made up. 

And as I started to worry less, I felt myself become more confident. I could look in a mirror and not feel like some ugly waste of space, the way I used to. I feel good about myself, about who I am. Honestly, the gym helped. I’m still pretty lithe, but I’m now lean instead of twig-like. 

I got university offers from everywhere I applied, with an interview still pending. I’ve been independent and scouted out different places, and have more or less decided where I want to go. I’m not worried about exams because I believe in my own ability. I have the potential to get where I want to be, it’s just a question of actuation. 

I feel satisfied, and fulfilled in and of myself. I’m actually happy. 

I’m also an adult now, technically. In a weird way, it feels different. I feel different. 

The kid that used to pine over some girl, and carried around so much self loathing and anxiety seems so far removed from who I am now. Obviously, my past has influenced who I am now, but it doesn’t define me. I’m just me, and I’m happy with that. Whatever happens, happens. 

Of course, this isn’t to say I’ll never feel sad ever again, or anything like that. It’s just that, when I feel sad in the future, it won’t be as big a thing as it used to be. It won’t hurt as deeply because I am fundamentally accepting and happy of who I am, even if others aren’t. 

So, I’m back. 

I don’t really know how this will work now, as I used to write here when I felt bad. I guess we’ll just see what happens. 


  • Gatsu by Susumu Hirasawa 


Space Lion by The Seatbelts